The Warring

Tennis elbow!

I have tennis elbow from a rally

that never seems to end,

a switch a throw a volley,

A witch a show a folly,

A bitch a ho a bitch a ho

a witch hunt,

On a court of love where

loves forgotten in the game.

A Game?

Rally right, rally left and bereft

I be of a father who doesn't

even know me, a seat

that's always vacant in the stands -

No hands to clap or pat me on the

shoulder and say;

“Good point soldier, lets hope

the acts of infamy are forgotten

by the causes that you hail.”

Back and forth

back and forth the ball comes,

spewing venom from a tongue

keen with false derision and I can

hear it plain as day shouting like

a vixen, “I'm goona make an example of you,

of you

of you

of you!

The echo resounds as left and

right my clown shoes pound

a pace with masking tape placed

to shore up soles and sounds from

a mouth battling against a crowd

with nothing but hate and I'm grounded

in the past, unwittingly and bitterly

confounded by abuse

for the one unforgiven mistake

I made while returning a serve from

Goliath, dressed sublimely and serenely

in the guise of a maiden as a rose.

I'm at the mercy of their lie, a lie

the umpire knows well as

he sits upon a chair at

end of sofa placed blatantly

In Hell!

And I return the volley -

beg the reverie, explore the court

and know,

the four sides be the

prison, the nexus, the punishment,

the abuse for the crime I never did

commit, and I long to flee

as I state my case in tears for all

Goliath's fans that scream my disrobing,

my halo taken, my crucifixion

and fall from grace I planned

within all innocence to keep

within my faith,

this sordid fucking blood-letting!

“Such a clever little man”

They'll say condemning my presence

with a jealousy for my status as a man

who'll take a stand, a stand as a David

who'll take the battle to the devil

in a serving of an ace, right between

the crowds ungodly bloodshot eyes.

'See all this............soon come!'

the shona ghost will hiss while exhibiting a smile -

and a nuclear mile begs indifference with a kiss.

And now, now, blood torn

and crimson, the RSI from wanking

over maidens taking spankings

brings this rally to an end;

the injury, a curse upon my buttox

from a small aged boy,

and though the porn foretold, and the

umpires lids are closed,

I'm still bleeding now at 42,

and the vomit now ensuing

brings about a stubborn truth,

bring the end to child abuse,

for those who sit in courts,

are not there through love at all,

and just to put the record straight;

My name is Michael, an angel with

a halo now battered and accused.

Michael J Waite Wednesday 13^th May 2009 0021hrs.